


La Crosse

by paragraph (ebcdic)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Haunted Houses, M/M, Ouija, Serial Killers, Weekend Getaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebcdic/pseuds/paragraph
Summary: "When I said I'd get away with you this weekend if you stopped texting me every five seconds, this isn't exactly what I meant. You didn't say anything about trespassing and staying in abandoned houses in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin."





	La Crosse

The house is one of those classic farmhouses with the big porch and the slightly crooked frame. It looks like it was built by someone who didn't quite know what they were doing. Some of the windows are in upside-down and the foundation is sagging. Leaves are drifting across the lawn, which looks more like a dirt farm. In fact, it almost blends in with the ruts in the dirt that could possibly have once been a driveway. Behind the house is a barn with a fading ad for Pepsi that looks like it was painted up there sometime around when the drink was invented. It doesn't look like the place has had an occupant in years.

"Yeah, sorry, but we're not staying here," Patrick says as he stares at the screen door that's swinging on its hinges.

"You can't back out on me now, man," Pete frowns. "I mean, a deal is a deal."

Patrick frowns back at him. "When I said I'd get away with you this weekend if you stopped texting me every five seconds, this isn't exactly what I meant. You didn't say anything about trespassing and staying in abandoned houses in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin."

"Actually…" Pete whips out his Sidekick and pulls up his messages. He holds the phone in front of Patrick's face. "See, you said, 'okay fine whatever i'll go with you to wi just let me sleep!' and I said, 'ull go anywhere' and you said 'i'm turning off my phone now' and I said 'r not' and you totally lied about the turning the phone off thing because you said 'shut up pete or i'll come over and kill you in your sleep' and I said 'r u gonna sex me up 1st' and you said--"

"Shut up," Patrick grumbles.

"Yeah, and I said--"

"No," Patrick interrupts. "I mean shut up now. In the present."

"Oh." Pete closes his phone. "So, we're totally staying here right?"

"Fine." He grabs Pete's phone and shoves it in his pocket. "But this is mine."

"Dude!" Pete complains.

"Getting away means getting away," Patrick says firmly. "That means no phones, no internet."

"You're a total buzzkill," Pete pouts.

Patrick rolls his eyes. He walks around to the back of the car and pops the truck before grabbing his backpack and a sleeping bag. After Pete gets his own gear, Patrick closes the truck and locks the car.

"Are you totally absolutely positively one-hundred percent sure about this?" Patrick asks as they start up the driveway.

"Of course. I mean, how often do you get to stay in a haunted house?" Pete grins.

Patrick wants to slug him. "What?"

"You're not scared, are you?" Pete taunts.

"No," Patrick says weakly.

After they finish setting up camp on the living room floor with their sleeping bags and some lanterns, and have eaten cold poptarts for dinner, Pete pulls a box out of his bag. It's the size and shape of a board game. Patrick remembers the last time they attempted to play Monopoly. Pete snapped up all the railroads and utilities and proceeded to cackle every time someone landed on one of them despite the fact that William or Joe socked him in the arm every time. Eventually, Gabe went homicidal on Pete after he was forced to mortgage all his property and Andy, who had refused to play something so blatantly in favor of capitalism, ended up having to haul Gabe away before he did serious damage.

"I'm not playing with you," Patrick says when Pete gives him a hopeful smile.

"But it's not Monopoly," Pete dumps the contents of the box onto the floor between them. "It's an Ouija board."

"Yeah," Patrick frowns at the board. "Still not playing."

"We're in a haunted house and you don't want to see if there's something really there?" Pete asks with one eyebrow raised.

"Pete, I didn't want to come here in the first place, so no," Patrick reminds him.

"Please?" Pete pleads as he gives his classic puppy-dog look. 

Patrick sighs. "Fine."

Pete sets up the board and places his fingertips on the planchette and Patrick follows suit after a second of hesitation. He's not sure why doing this bothers him. Maybe he's just pissed at Pete for dragging him here in the first place.

"Is anybody out there?" Pete asks as he frowns in concentration down at the board.

Slowly, the planchette swings to "Yes." Patrick rolls his eyes. Surely Pete is moving it.

"Who are you?"

The planchette swings from letter to letter until it spells out a name: Ed Gein. Immediately, Patrick shifts away from the board and then stands up. He glares down at Pete.

"Cut that shit out."

"I didn't do it!" Pete exclaims as he jumps to his feet. 

"Whatever."

Patrick stalks outside and sits on the drooping porch. He doesn't know much about Gein other than that he was the inspiration for many fictional serial killers. Pete had probably looked up all sorts of shit before they came up here in an effort to scare Patrick. But Patrick isn't going to have it and if this is really Gein's house, he's going to kill Pete himself.

The door swings open. Patrick keeps on glaring out at the dirt field. He can hear Pete shifting toward him, but he refuses to look in his direction. Pete's hand rests on his shoulder and he flinches it away.

"Fuck off, Pete," Patrick mutters.

When Pete doesn't leave, Patrick turns to glare at him. But Pete isn't standing there. A guy in a wool cap and a plaid shirt is there instead. Patrick jumps to his feet and backs away as the guy smiles vacantly at him.

"W-who are you?" Patrick stutters.

The guy moves toward Patrick without answering. Patrick glances around quickly, looking for something to use to defend himself. There's a half-rotten broom leaning against one of the windows and he picks it up and shakes it at the guy.

"Get away from me."

When the guy doesn’t listen, Patrick tries to hit him over the head with the broomstick. The broom snaps in half over the guy's head and Patrick can't help but scream as the figure keeps moving toward him. His hands grope for the porch railing and he scoots backward as he holds onto it. If he can just get up there and jump off, he can run around the back, grab Pete and get the fuck out of here.

Just as he's managed to get halfway over, the guy grabs him. Patrick screams even louder than he had before. He tells himself that this is impossible, but the bony grip on his arm says otherwise. 

"Pete! Help!" Patrick screams as loud as he can.

The guy laughs soundlessly. Patrick is starting to get the feeling that this crazy fuck has already gotten Pete. He kicks out at the guy's shin and is surprised when it connects. As the guy hops backwards, Patrick hops the railing and runs around back, screaming Pete's name.

Pete doesn't answer. Patrick busts open the back door to find Pete sprawled out on the kitchen floor. His shirt has been torn off and there's blood on his chest. Patrick sinks to his knees and leans down to see if Pete is still breathing and he is, but just barely. 

"Pete, wake up, please wake up," Patrick pleads in near hysteria.

The floorboards creak behind him and Patrick swallows down the urge to scream. He grabs Pete underneath his shoulders and starts dragging him toward the door. Pete groans faintly but doesn't wake up. When he's almost to the door Patrick runs into something. He jumps, dropping Pete, and turns around. It's the guy. Patrick screams so loud and at such a high pitch that he would be extremely embarrassed under different circumstances. 

As his heart pounds in his chest, the guy breaks out into a grin and then he hears laughter from behind him. It sounds like it's in pure glee. He turns around to find Pete propped up on his elbows, grinning at him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you scream like a girl?"

Patrick blinks rapidly and turns to face the guy that had been chasing him. He peels off a custom mask to reveal that he's actually Joe.

"Trick or treat?" Joe asks as he grins sheepishly.

Without hesitation, Patrick punches him in the gut. As Joe doubles over, Patrick stalks out the front door. He can't believe that he fell for this shit. He really should've known better. Pete is always up to something. Always. 

"Patrick, wait!" Pete calls after him.

Patrick spins on his heel, kicking up a cloud of dust from the dirt front lawn. "Fuck. Off."

"It was just a joke," Pete says softly as he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at the ground.

"Whatever," Patrick dismisses. 

He takes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door to the car. After getting inside, he slams the door shut, starts the car, and revs the engine. Pete runs up to the car and knocks on the window.

"You're not going to leave me here, are you?"

Patrick smirks and puts the car in reverse. Pete runs after him down the driveway and for a second, Patrick feels triumphant. For once, he's getting to Pete instead of the other way around. At that point, Pete trips and hits the dirt. He lifts himself up a bit and Patrick can make out tears in the reflection of the headlights. Swearing under his breath, Patrick hits the brakes and puts the car in park. 

Pete gets all the way to his feet and shuffles over to the car door again. Patrick sighs and then rolls down the window. 

"Just get a ride home from Joe, Pete."

"No."

Patrick growls anger and embarrassment and starts to move the gear into drive when Pete grabs his face and kisses him hard. 

"I don't want to go home with Joe," he says as he pulls back, his hands still cupping Patrick's face. "I want to go home with you. I've always wanted to go home with you."

"Pete," Patrick sighs. He's not sure what to think about that admission.

"This whole thing was a mistake. I just wanted to spend time with you, but then Joe thought it would be funny to play into the whole Halloween thing and I got kind of carried away with the idea."

"Kind of carried away?" Patrick's voice rises in pitch with every word.

"Okay," Pete ducks his head and drops his hands from Patrick's face. "A lot carried away."

Patrick leans forward and rests his head on the steering wheel. "Why do I put up with you?"

"I don't know," Pete murmurs.

There's sadness mixed with regret mixed with uncertainty in there and Patrick can't take it. He lifts his head and pulls Pete back toward him. Pete blinks in surprise as Patrick strokes his cheek.

"It was rhetorical. And if you don't know why by now, you really are an idiot."

"You?" Pete swallows hard. 

"Yeah," Patrick whispers. He's not sure what Pete is asking exactly, but he has a pretty good idea. 

"God," Pete whispers back with a throaty moan. 

Patrick pulls him even closer and kisses him softly before pulling back slightly. "Go get our stuff. We're going to a nice hotel on your dime, where you can make this up to me properly."

Pete grins. "Yes, sir."

He takes off running toward the house, brushing past Joe on his way through the door. Joe heads across the lawn to the car and leans down into the window.

"So," he says with a grin. "Have we moved past anger and onto the hot I-love-you-too-you-idiot sex part of this escapade?" 

Patrick blinks. "What?"

"Dude," Joe laughs. "The only reason I set this up was so you could get so pissed off at Pete that you'd realize that you still want him even when you're pissed which would make you finally realize that you love him, you know, like that and that Pete felt the same way because fuck knows he'd start crying the second you walked away."

It takes Patrick a second to digest the massive run-on sentence. "Am I supposed to thank you?"

Joe shakes his head. "Nah. Just keep the screaming and moaning and shit down to a minimum when we're on tour again. I mean, man, you are loud. And I need my beauty sleep."

Patrick socks him in the arm. "Fucker," he mutters under his breath.

"You're welcome," Joe says gleefully. "By the way, there's a whole box of condoms under the back seat."

He pats Patrick on the shoulder and walks away. Patrick's still sitting there with his mouth gaping open when Pete starts walking toward the car.


End file.
